


in which, a slave is released

by intoxicated_by_our_lies, klismaphilia (orphan_account)



Series: unfortunate conundrums [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crew as Family, F/F, F/M, M/M, Political Alliances, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rescue Missions, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7875178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicated_by_our_lies/pseuds/intoxicated_by_our_lies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/klismaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. And then there came to be Soqe who inadvertently stole a slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in which, a slave is released

He was in a slave auction.

 

Fuck, he was. No matter how often he looked around him, noticed the half naked and tired looking aliens... fuck, he was. Sex slaves, house slaves, regular slaves... so many that it made his head hurt the longer he looked around him. He wasn't even even sure why he was there in the first place. He took a left from the cartel market, talked to the trainer, and... and followed the crowd here.

 

Oh. That's why.

 

Swallowing the fear in his throat, he licked his bottom lip. It was getting tiring to stay here, but... he didn't think he could leave. The guards were standing in front of the doors and it felt too crowded to move... fuck.

 

"---And next up for showcase is-"

 

The announcer was quickly interrupted by incoherent screaming, resounding around the room, off the walls and echoing through the city plaza. There was an abundance of curses, threats, something sworn in Huttese that was more than less an insult as a bag was opened and a green-skinned man was unceremoniously thrown onto the stage.

 

His hair was grey, longer than most aliens seemed to have, bundled into a loose knot at the back of his head. A scattering of black marks lines his cheeks and head, enough to expose his Mirialan heritage, but not enough to prove significance. And yet, somehow, there was nothing insignificant about him- he was practically burning with a dark aura, the fervent curses of Kriff, get away from me you sleemo! only growing louder at the snap of vibrocuffs on his thin wrists.

 

Pulling himself up to a more impressive height, Isosei tried desperately to ignore the gazes planted upon his near-naked body. The lashes on his back were still oozing blood, not having had much time to heal over the strenuous transport from one place to another. He could feel metal embedded in his skin still, aching flesh still stinging, slack with sweat over the deep scars.

 

He gasped, suddenly, at the hands pressing him onto his back in a chair, presenting more of his body for inspection even as he attempted to shy away from it. His master... if his master were here, he never would have...

 

 _Master Tythys is the one who left you here._ Isosei shuddered, nearly shrinking in on himself, desperately longing for a warm touch, someone to cover him up and take him away from this... Aralik'reen was beyond his gaze, though, and Uwuxir remained with his former master... the one who decided he was too incapacitated for the strain of actual labor after he'd crippled his arm.

 

"Please don't-" he stared in agony at the man whose hand was under his thigh, parting his legs as though his body was not his own. Isosei was twenty six and this had still never been more painful. "I'll do anything."

 

Soqe frowned at the sight of an human greedily groping and pulling at a much taller slave that was being presented. The poor thing looked so terrified, like a child almost. No, he looked older than the age of a child, but his malnutrition and young looking face didn't allow for him to look his true age. It made sense to show young looking slaves- who wanted older slaves? They died easier, were more likely to be injured...

 

 _They're human beings, Soqe._ He thought, immediately flinching. They were people. They didn't deserve to be talked about like this.

 

Nor did they deserve to be abused.

 

"Excuse me," he yelled at the patron, pleased when he completely stopped in his molestation of the slave. "He asked for you to stop. Now, stop."

 

Isosei visibly relaxed when the fingers slid away from where they'd been pressing over his rim and along his spine, head pitching back as he half rolled off the chair. His nails scrabbled for a hold on the floor, pulling himself away just enough to get out of the regular line of sight the customers had.

 

He could feel his chest heaving, breath erratic and out of control as he tried to hold to himself closer, fingers trembling when they hooked around his metal cuffs, trying to collapse them with the force.

 

A hand hooked around his wrist and he was being pulled up, dragged partway out again, twisting and hurling an insult as his captor, clawing at the hand on his arm. "Fuck you!" He looked up, pleasingly, eyes wide and bright gold when he tried to push the dark man away again, unnerved at the blindfold around his eyes. A Miraluka? They weren't... weren't dark, he didn't think, and he was wearing traditional robes... "Please, fuck-"

 

"Are you alright, young one?" Soqe asked, crouching down to inspect the other alien's face, frowning at the sight of blood staining his back. The poor thing was in even worse shape than he originally thought. "You're injured, I will call a medic for you."

 

"No-!" Isosei gasped, jerking back, his eyes wide and shoulders trembling roughly, crying out. "No more... touching. I don't want to be touched! I don't want it!"

 

Soqe frowned, immediately taking his hands off of him and putting them in the air to symbolize that he meant no harm and just wanted to help him. "I have basic training in first aid, please, allow me to help you."

 

 _Why is he doing that?_ the gesture had become unfamiliar to the Mirialan, something he hardly remembered being extended to him before, only able to acknowledge that... that he wasn't going to hurt him? Isosei straightened up, extending his arm until fingers brushed against the man's wrist, feather light. Slowly, he pulled himself back to his feet- he had a few inches on the Miraluka- and whined. "P-promise you'll... do it? No backcrossing."

 

He nodded, lightly touching his hand before glancing back behind him. "I promise, young one. No harm will come to you by my hand. I am gentle, I will never harm another alien. Please, allow me to see your back so I can asses how bad it is."

 

Isosei nodded slightly, straightening himself before bending over slightly, muscles straining to keep still with the pain of everything. He shuddered a bit, the chill of the skin on his hot back causing him to flinch, before easing slightly. "Okay. And then what happens?"

 

"You're going to need extensive stitches to repair your back," he mumbled worriedly, gently touching an older scar that was present still. "It's infected, I'm surprised you can stand."

 

"Are you leaving me here?" Isosei questioned, tensing up and pulling himself back to his feet, arms wrapped around his skinny frame to hide himself from view. "I don't want to be a slave anymore..."

 

"I will inform a medicbot, but I'm afraid that I am unable to truly do much for you," he admitted, almost shamefully, unable to look at the hurt and terrified look on his face. "I am not authorized to buy a slave, I'm so sorry."

 

"Fuck you!" The younger of the two spat, pushing the man away without even touching him, sending him back a few inches with the outburst. "You're just like the rest of them! You give me hope and then you _crush_ it!" He nearly burst, overwhelmed by tears as he turned, bracing himself to run. "Give me back to the slavers if you're going to leave me."

 

Soqe frowned at him once more, immediately cursing himself for not reassuring the boy better. "I would rather you be seen by a droid and have your wounds be examined before you go and see your slavers. They do not seem to be looking after you well at all, and any longer, and the infection will cripple you." he looked at his hand, raising a brow. "It seems that they have already proven their negligence."

 

"It is alright," Isosei mumbled, tilting his head to the side to avoid facing the man. He cradled his hand to his chest, barely sparing it a second glance as he looked back to the stage, scowl imprinted on his face. "Patch me up. And then get out of my sight. I did not ask you to save me- and I obviously never asked for this. Let him get on with spreading me again. The spectators loved it, did they not?

 

"Are you implying that their entertainment is more important than your health and safety?" he asked, almost spitting it out. He immediately regretted it. The boy was a child, most likely young enough to not considered to be damaged goods just yet if he still wasn't killed or kept as a laborer if his prosthetic meant anything, and hadn't done anything but act defensively. The poor thing needed kindness, not to be judged or talked down to. "I apologize if my tone came off rougher than it was supposed to. I am not able to 'patch you up'; you need surgery to even make a difference on your back."

 

"If you really cared," Isosei leaned in, gripping the man's robes tightly, pulling him close with a hand against his neck, "then you'd take me away from them."

 

He was almost tempted to say that he was sorry again, but stopped short due to the ringing that came from his pants. "Aishol'fiza, what do you need?"

 

The girl did not look pleased with his casual response. "Master, you're late. I've been informed that you still have not visited your ship yet? Has something happened?"

 

"No, Padawan," he hissed out, looking at the slave for a moment. "I... I will be there shortly. Please standby until then."

 

Soqe gently touched the slave's hand, pulling him towards him. "Come with me."

 

Isosei looked up at the man, betrayal and shock evident on his features. His lips had curled back into an expression of disgust, eyes nearly flashing with how bright yellow they'd become. _"You're a Jedi?"_ he asked, repulsed. Hurriedly, he tore himself away, looking back to the auction.

 

"You... you can't, he said he wouldn't, said they'd never come after me, they left me, I was hurting and they left, _force dammed bantha hork!"_ The Mirialan's voice rose in pitch until he was nearly shouting, before a hand clamped firmly over his mouth, the Jedi's hand sliding around his to pull him along.

 

And for once, Isosei was more terrified to be free than to be a slave.

* * *

  


Aishol'fiza stared at the half naked alien sitting on the bed, a thin blanket placed over his shoulders as Soqe stepped into the room again. "Master..." she sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "Who is this?"

 

Soqe smiled at his Padawan, briefly touching his... slave? No, he wasn't a slave, not anymore. He was free. Free as they allowed him to be. "He will be joining us, Padawan. He needed a home, and medical treatment. As Jedi, it is our responsibility to ensure that the people are safe from harm fully."

 

"That's not his name."

 

He cringed. "Please, introduce yourself to her..."

 

"My name is Isosei," the slave ducked his head, wrapping the blanket further around him. He spared little more than a glance at the Twi'lek girl before offering the best smile he could- ominous, darker than it should've been. Still, he extended a bony arm to her, mindful of his wounds. "You are a Jedi padawan? Have they not abolished the term of master yet?"

 

"Abolishing it would do no good," Aishol'fiza said, taking a hold of his hand and shaking it slowly. "I prefer to refer to my Master as my Master. I thought they had abolished slavery."

 

"Aishol'fiza," Soqe gripped her shoulder warningly. "That is enough. He is not to he treated so cruelly."

 

He sighed when he noticed the blue-green Twi'lek was rolling her eyes again, staring at the alien with distaste. "You are free to leave now. I assume you have much training to do before we settle back?"

 

The way he spoke... it was almost taunting. He was threatening her, obviously, but she couldn't believe he was doing it so obviously in front of someone else. "Yes, master." She said, turning to leave the room. "I will return to my meditation now, if you would allow me."

 

He nodded, referring back to the much younger man and smiling. "Now, let us see if I can clean your wounds."

 

Isosei turned around slightly, exposing his back to the Jedi with all the open wounds exposed to his eyes as the blanket fell to cover his waist. He barely managed to contain a cry of pain when he could feel a wet cloth pressing against the wound, smoothing it over as if trying to clean it out, using the force to line gauze across his back, his body quivering at the feel of something on his skin. "Thank you for rescuing me," Isosei mumbled. "I am indebted."

 

"You are free of all debts," he smiled, applying tape at the end of the gauze. "It was my duty to not allow you to die die to medical neglect brought on by bad slave owners..."

 

"I owe you," he said sharply. "My master taught me to respect my clients." And with that, the thin figure was rolling onto his stomach, tilting his hips up and sliding his thighs apart, a pose more submissive than most would be comfortable with. He pressed his face flatter against the mattress, one hand sliding between his thighs in preparation to spread himself if needed. "You may claim your reward, Jedi."

 

Soqe starred awkwardly, looking away once he noticed Isosei looking back at him. "Please... put your clothes on. I am not finished."

 

"That's a first," was the only given response, and there was no question that it had struck something. Isosei's body was even more tense, but it loosened almost immediately whenever the Jedi spoke, his mind willing enough to allow the touch to continue. He struggled to pull the blanket back around his waist, obediently sitting still as the wounds were patched up, before turning around to grab Soqe by the wrist, looking over him. "Are we going back to Hoth?" He asked, pitch dark. "Don't make me leave."

 

Soqe shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. "I promise you won't be returning there any time soon. You will accompany Aishol'fiza and I to the Temple, but you will never have the return there."

 

"The... are you talking about the temple on Coruscant?" Isosei shivered unintentionally as he felt the needles tugging his skin tight once more, allowing him little to no room for breath. Turning his head slightly, he noticed the hand pushing hair from his face all too well in spite of himself, biting his lip as he glanced up at Soqe through veiled lashes. "How old are you, Jedi? What is your intent on bringing me with you?"

 

Soqe hummed lightly to himself, gathering a small tunic and placing it in Isosei's arms. "I am twenty nine." He closed his eyes once he turned around. "I intend on having you looked at. The bandages we have now will not do. I will have some of the medics there take care of you."

 

"I would prefer not to see the medics," the younger alien ducked his head, a warm blush spreading across his cheeks, gripping Soqe's wrist lightly and looking up at him. "If that's alright with you. I can take care of myself." He felt nervous with the threat of being treated hanging over his head... the potential of the healers remembering his name or finding his force sensitivity. It was... more troublesome than anything.

 

He smiled weakly at the Jedi, standing to his feet as he allowed himself to unfold the tunic, undoing the sashes and fitting it over his arms, slowly dressing. "I am unaccustomed to your clothes," Isosei admitted. "Slave garments are thin and barely existent."

 

"I will help you dress if you are comfortable with it," he blushed, coughing when he noticed his pale green skinned thighs being revealed to him. "I... I... oh. Y-you must see the healers if you want to lower the likelihood of losing the ability to walk."

 

The Mirialan nodded hesitantly, straightening further and pulling the robes tight over his chest. He remembered how to tie tunics like these... all sorts of simply knots and sashes to align. It was so long ago now, however, that it felt like a wasted memory.

 

Isosei nodded in response, raising his arms to allow the Jedi space to finish dressing him, ties hanging loosely across his body. "If you would," he acknowledged gently. "As for the healers... I am apprehensive, but I assume there is no other way. You can... you can have me see them."

 

He could barely control himself, blushing fully whenever his skin somehow managed to graze across the Mirialan's when he attempted to tie the knot on his back. Soqe was trying to be careful not to touch his back so that it wouldn't inflame the wounds or move his bandages. It was even harder to do when he could feel his hands shaking, desperate to touch the other. No, he refused to allow himself to do it. The boy was a slave not much long ago, and didn't deserve to have another's hands all over him. He was free and was allowed to do whatever he wanted now.

 

"Thank you," he said, forcing out a small smile. "Until then, young one, I would like for you to get some rest. It will take some time to get to the Jedi temple, and even longer for you to see the healers. I will escort you to my chambers where you will rest until then."

 

"Will they remove my slave collar as well?" He asked quickly, hand sliding up to the cuff wrapped around half his neck, cut into the skin and hooked there, disgusting. His eyes were wide and nearly frantic, shaking his head and offering to pull away when he met Soqe's blindfold.

 

"I will rest now. Forgive my impudence." Isosei bowed, respectfully, pulling away just enough that their skin was hardly touching, fingers splayed on the Jedi’s chest for mere seconds before pulling away, glancing down at him in accordance. His eyes gleamed, chuckling a bit. "I believe I am not much younger than yourself, Jedi. Therefore, young one is less applicable than it should be."

 

He chuckled, shaking his head for a moment. "You are still younger than I, so young one is acceptable." he briefly touched his neck, examining the collar for a moment. "I will see what they can do about it. I don't presume it should be too hard to get it removed."

 

"I should hope not," Isosei leaned into the touch against his neck, before sinking teeth into his lip and glancing away. "You have been quite careful with me. I am in awe of your compassion, Jedi. I wish I could say that I have been worthy of such treatment, but if you knew of my former actions, I do believe you would not have been so kind."

 

He hummed quietly, tempted to ask, but decided against it. In due time, the other would tell him. "I believe the past has very little bearings on who you are now. You were a slave, and now you are not. I was a young, arrogant Padawan with very little respect for others. And now I am not."

 

"I can hardly imagine you as arrogant," Isosei murmured, fingertips against the skin of Soqe's wrist, yearning to touch more and ultimately, deciding against it. He swiveled around, straightening up again, gaunt frame nearly a wisp in comparison to the other's more regal expression and musculature. "I should like to hear of what your master was like... and your padawan. What color is your lightsaber? What is the most dangerous mission you ever partook in?"

 

He chuckled once more, nodding. "You are full of curiosity, young one. Perhaps this will serve you well." he took the other's hand into his, leading him towards the door. "For now, rest. I will tell you all that you want to inquire about in the morning."

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of a knock against the door echoed through Isosei's head, an unwelcome sound that broke through the boundaries set in place in mere seconds. He sat up, almost groggy, fingers tangling in the robes that had loosened up in his sleep. It took a second for him to realize where he was... grabbing tight to the sheets as he sat up, pulling a blanket around his shoulders in an attempt to hide.

 

There was a soft voice before he could see green skin, much lighter than his own, as a girl- the padawan- peered around the corner and into the room, pulling herself in without much care for Isosei's position.

 

"Can I help you?" He asked. "Get it out, or get out."

 

"You will do well to learn your manners, slave," Aishol'fiza warned, stepping into the room further. "Master asked me to bring you your food before we depart. He worries that you have not eaten in the past twenty four hours and does not want to risk you passing out during your examination."

 

"I'm sure you would much prefer that I passed out," Isosei remarkes, pulling himself back to his feet and reorganizing his hair into a loose bun, sparing the briefest of glances at the Twi'lek. His collar was on full display now, robes still disheveled and loose, exposing part of his ribcage when he stepping out of the bed for the first moment of the day. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

 

"I bare no ill-bearings toward you, slave," she replied, setting down the small tray of food. "It would be wrong of me to do so as I am training."

 

"And still you call me slave," the man turned around, eyes matching with hers before he eyed the tray of food reaching down to peer at some of the items, things he had rarely been allowed since before his slavery. "What is this?"

 

"Baked dru'un slices in fish sauce and Rycrit stew," she lazily replied, glancing up and down his body. "Master assumed that you would find it easy to consume. I do not know why he had made so much, but I'm not going to question him now."

 

"I have a very fragile body. My stomach is not accustomed to such large portions," Isosei acknowledged, using the spoon to eat part of the stew, before turning away from her, awkwardly swallowing. "Have we docked on Coruscant? Your Master wished me to meet him..."

 

"We are close," she said, looking away from him now. She had not wanted to bring the slave food or do much else, but Master had wanted her to do so. "He is currently occupied with another matter at hand. It is best that you finish eating and further dressing yourself now."

 

"Am I not fully dressed?" He questioned, examining his tightly wound robes, covering his body aside from his arms and part of his side. Furrowing his brow in frustration, Isosei straightened up, turning to her for a moment to sigh, reaching out as if to place a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for the food."

* * *

  


The second he could feel the hands pushing him down against a cold metal surface, forcing him back onto the table as they worked on undoing his robes, he screamed. It was barely seconds before he was thrashing, arm swinging out, aimed for the face of the man holding him down, his legs weakly kicking at anyone nearby. He desperately searched for Soqe, needy for his presence and yet angered at his abandonment. _You fucking betrayed me! I hate you! You gave me to them!_

 

"Master!" He pleaded. "Master, please! Save me, Master, they're hurting me! _I trusted you_ , where are you?!"

 

"Isosei," Soqe called from the other side of the tent, resting a hand on his shoulders, hushing him. "They are trying to help you. Please, calm down. They need to remove your clothing to inspect the rest of your body for any wounds or more infections. You're hurt, they need to help you."

 

He grabbed his hand, flinching when he can feel him nearly break his hand from the pressure. "I am here, I won't abandon you ever."

 

His fingers looped around the Miraluka's, pulling him into a near death grip as he clutched to his arm, his chest, his hands, weakly forced to release the clothing when his bony hands became tired. He could feel them forcing him over onto his stomach, his back suddenly bared, exposed and laid out... _so close to being violated, he was terrified-_

 

"Soqe?" He questioned, voice thick with tears. "Thank you..." the hands were working at his bandages now, a tool dipping into the wound, one that he vaguely could recognize as a sterilizing agent. He shuddered, rigid in his shoulders as hands anchored on his waist, trying to access the wounds better...

 

He felt his body shake when the next words hit his ears, the other examiner having wired a tube into his arm, almost muttering something in surprise. "He's already in the Coruscant system... didn't you find him on Hoth?"

 

“Perhaps he was taken from Coruscant? It wouldn't be unheard of for a slave to be taken from a planet and forced into an all new one." he struggled to reason, grabbing ahold of the younger man and comforting him, whimpering. "He will be able to further tell us about his history later. For now, please focus on healing him."

 

Isosei moaned, pressing himself further onto the table, eyes shut and teeth gritting in pain from the ache in his shoulders. He blinked, rapidly, reaching up as he felt stitches sliding through his skin, pulling everything tight and taut once more, the sound of cutting a nervous tick to his mind. "Master...?"

 

"You're safe, Isosei," he hushed, massaging his temples. "They're nearly finished, don't fret. You should be getting heavy sedatives to dull down your pain, so any pain you feel now will be gone very soon. Close your eyes, try to ease away until I call you back. I have you."

 

He nodded, head groggy and mellowed from the drugs being pumped into his veins. An almost dazed expression crossed his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he gripped tight to the table and slowly began to lose coherence. He could feel a cloud of black settling in his head, his breath stilling as Soqe's voice continued to fill his ears, a voice he wished never went away, for it made him feel cared for and welcome...

 

* * *

 

 

He was force sensitive.

 

No matter how much he tried to run that through his mind, the fact just sounded so wrong to him. He didn't look like he'd even be able to control a light saber, and he didn't feel the force coming from him. Was he trained to conceal it like he was when he was a young child? He didn't know yet, it... it was impossible to know as of now.

 

"Isosei," he tapped his shoulder, forcing him back awake. "You will need to wake up now."

  
  


He struggled to bring himself out of unconsciousness, vision lined with spots of white and black on a dimmed backdrop, hands reaching out automatically as if to grasp hold of something unseen. Isosei's teeth clenched, cringing at the fingers against his cheek, sitting forward with a muffled groan as he looked up in nervousness.

 

"Master?" He questioned, before gulping and backing away in horror. " _You're n'my m'ster..."_ the Mirialan blinked several times, fearfully, a stream of force energy shooting from him as he turned to look around, suddenly realizing. "Oh...  Soqe... I'm 'right?"

 

He tapped his cheek twice to completely wake him up. "We have things we must discuss, child. And you must not lie to me, do you understand?"

 

Isosei pulled himself away, tilting to one side as he tucked legs to his chest, huddled as though he thought it would help him disappear if only for a second . His skin tingled wherever it was touched, as if burning, teeth sinking into his lip as he scrambled to pull himself together.

 

He turned to face Soqe, eyes wide, the yellow orbs prominent as ever, darkness having settled into the flesh around them as he maintained a steady glare. "Then we should talk."

 

He nodded, sitting down at the edge of the table. "When the healers were working on you, they found out that you were force sensitive. Do you know what that means?"

 

"That I am in touch with the living force," Isosei repeated as if he'd heard it a thousand times. "Yes, I am... familiar... with the force. It's why they placed an inhibitor in my slave implant."

 

"Good," he responded, touching the slave collar that was still on the table next to him. He wanted to keep it and allow Isosei to do as he pleased with it. It would be... liberating to throw it away or destroy it, wouldn't it? "They have you on their systems. Here. Not on the planet where I stole you from. Please explain this to me."

 

"Because I was once like you," he murmured, tone lower than before as he turned away, fingers running along the edge of his now-redone robes, smiling faintly at the feel of soft fabric beneath the pads of his digits. He stared toward the wall, the open window providing a magnificent view of a city he'd never been truly acquainted with, like some sort of taunt. "I was an apprentice. But it was such a long time ago... I scarcely have the will to recall it." He took a deep breath. "I apologize for not informing you sooner. I had assumed you would leave me."

 

"I would like to know what you're able to tell me, Isosei," he said, hand moving onto his lap as if was a command for him to tell him more instead of his simply asking. "It's very imperative that you tell me the truth, also. If you require my help, I must know everything that is important about you."

 

"I... I was like you, I had a master. I... we... we left, we went very far away, and... and I was not of use to him. I... they stripped me of everything, and... and now I am here." He said, nearly whimpering, as if hoping it would suffice. Even then, the words were not enough to cover up that he had hardly said anything. "I apologize, Soqe, please."

 

"Were there others that went you?" he asked, nodding along to the small bits that he told him. "When I took you away, you had two other slaves with you. A very young looking Rattataki and a Twi'lek. Did you know them?"

 

"I... w-we met, while we were in the service of a former master. My friends... we were friends. I... I promised them... many things," Isosei choked, his throat filled with bile and sickness in his gut. "I've been enslaved for eleven years. They used my body, they mutilated me, they forced me to throw myself at their feet. I was humiliated and beaten. Is that not enough?"

  


"Please, tell me more. What happened with your friends, Isosei?"

 

"I... I met Aralik'reen on Tatooine. Our Master was... rough with her. She was a pleasure slave... I promised her that we could get even with them. I... I stole a vibroknife, and she stabbed our Master while he slept. They... they sold us offworld, to Hoth. There is a species, the Rakata? They... they refused to touch her because of the incident before. Instead, they just broke her in. Torture... Uwuxir was the only one willing to clean us up. I was... I became the sex object. And... and we convinced Uwuxir to injure me, so that I would be sold off again, or even killed. It was a better alternative. I am uncertain of what was going to happen. I kept promising them... promising that I would take them to my master. He would surely help me seek revenge... but I am weak. I am too weak, too weak to be his..."

 

"Your master? Tell me his name." he a paused. "He did not want you?"

 

"My master..." He averted his eyes, pulling more roughly on his robes. "My master was... _Darth Atridion."_

 

Soqe flinched, grabbing his... he didn't know how to categorize him still. "A.. Darth Atridion? You..." he sucked in a shaky breath, standing up. "He was a Sith..."

 

"I know..." Isosei nearly sobbed, trembling as he reached for the Jedi again, needy. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I... I was attached to him, and when he left the Order, I... he was my Master." his voice seemed more hollow, almost broken. "I'm not his thought. You... you're my master now, Soqe. Right?"

 

"Yes," he struggled out, clasping his hands onto both of his shoulders, gently massaging them. "I am your master now, Isosei. You and Aishol'fiza are my apprentices..." he closed his eyes once again, taking in a deep breath. He needed to think about things more calm now. Isosei was likely abused by his former master, and was dragged into the dark side out of obligation for his master. It was understandable, wasn't it? "Do you know where he is, Isosei?"

 

"No..." Isosei whimpered, pulling in on himself again. "I'm sorry..." he reached out again, clutching weakly to Soqe's tunics, wordlessly asking the Jedi to pick him up or hold him. The gold of his eyes were overlaid by confusion, an impossible worry that he couldn't shake. "Master, I need you."

 

He allowed the former slave to curl up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him to comfort him better. "We will release your friend from slavery, Isosei, I swear. I will do everything in my power to find your former Master also."

 

"Thank you..." he mumbled softly, gripping tight to his master's clothes, face pressed into the curve of his neck, mumbling out apologies. He looked up to Soqe, desperate for him to say something else, shuddering against his smaller form as he tried to curl as close as possible. "I'll be a good slave for you, Soqe, you have my word. Whatever you ask of me, I will do. Just don't throw me away again."

 

"You are not a slave, Isosei," he said, forcing the boy's chin up to look at him. "You are my apprentice now."

 

"I know," the Mirialan murmured, staring desperately into Soqe's eyes, so tempted to reach out and touch... "But I will always be a slave." He tangled a hand in Soqe's robe, gentle. "And the Council will remind me of that if you take me to them. Your apprentice will remind me of that. The medics will remind me of that... my scars will remind me. I'm as much a slave as I am anything." He bowed his head, continuing, "My name was Darth Venereth, Soqe. I... I'm a traitor and a slave and worthless. I'm truly sorry."

 

"Hush, Isosei, hush now," he whispered, brushing his hair away from his face, using his thumb to wipe away his tears. "You are not any of those things, and you never truly were. As of now, your entire history is to be forgotten. I will speak with the Council and disallow Aishol'fiza from knowing your past, as long as you are quiet about it. No one will know a thing and you will be allowed to flourish without stigma."

 

"You don't know the council like I do," Isosei mumbled, but nodded nonetheless, reveling in the way Soqe's hand cupped his cheek, the gentleness of his hold... he was so incredibly voracious, so filled with power, so _good,_ and yet he wasn't judging him? If nothing else, Isosei admired him. "Thank you, Master... my Master, my Soqe... I have not often imagined redemption for myself. I hope... I hope that I can prove an asset to you. I hope that I can make you pleased."

* * *

  


The looks he was receiving right now felt incredibly disrespectful, and they were all coming from his own apprentice. It seemed like she was still upset about finding him holding Isosei when he was breaking down over his kindness. It hurt him to see her act so jealous and hateful, considering he has always worked hard to try and get her to be more open minded and careful about how she treated others. One day, it was going to get her into real trouble. Jedi were supposed to be careful and protect others, not look at them like they were trash.

 

"It seems like our mission was successful," he announced, standing up now. "During our mission, we managed to stop several renegades from returning to their stations and get their hands on extremely valuable information. We have taken the liberty of passing the information on better ways to defeat the renegades to the guards."

 

Aishol barely took any time to pipe up. "And have also taken the liberty of buying a slave."

 

Syo Bakaar's eyebrows raised, a cultured expression on his face though it didn't hide the shock written on his features as he folded his hands against the table in front of him. His eyes skirted over both the Master and his Padawan before he gave a sound of disdain. "Slavery is forbidden in the republic, Soqe." He stood to his feet, frown on his face. "This news is disturbing. What is your intent with the slave?"

 

"Isosei." Soqe corrected, a flash of anger ran through his eyes before it was thrown away with a calm expression. "I believe his Master was this Jedi. He confessed that his master was a Sith now... and that..." his throat closed, a raspy, "he had chosen the same path before becoming a slave."

 

"I have many concerns about the predicament we are now facing," the head of the Council stood, shaky on his feet, looking around the room as a silence overtook it. "You have allowed a former Sith into the Jedi temple without restraint. This cannot be overlooked."

 

"Perhaps," Syo Bakaar continued. "If we were to fit him with a force inhibitor for the time being, we could determine his allegiance from how he behaves around Soqe."

 

"Yet if he gets attached to Knight Soqe," Yaddle continued. "Pain, it could cause. Meddling without reason, we should not condone. Restraint, precautions should be."

 

"But it sounds as though he is loyal to our Knight," Yuon continued. "Should we not allow him the chance to prove his intentions are honest?"

 

"What was the name of the apprentice?" The Council head asked again, discerning. "His title?"

 

"His name is Isosei." He confirmed. "And I must confess, Masters. He is deeply traumatized and seems to be very sincere about his devotion to not just me, but the Republic."

 

He closed his eyes, remembering the way the young alien cried in his arms and poured out his heart to him about the abuse. "He was very young when he followed his Master to the Dark path. The pain and suffering he endured as a slave had set him straight now. The criticism and questionable looks he will get from others will set him back to it. Along with the restraint. He is scared of being touched."

 

"And yet he allows you to touch him?" One of the other Council members speaks up, quirking a brow. "Unusual. Has the... acolyte developed feelings for you?"

 

"Soqe was perhaps the first to show kindness to this man," Yuon elaborates, reaching out to grip the knight's shoulder. "How extreme was his treatment?"

 

"Excessively. He explained in great detail  of how horrific it was." He nodded at Yuon, licking his bottom lip. "He has also informed me of two other slaves that endured the same harsh treatment with him. Their whereabouts are unknown as of now."

 

"He may be forming an attachment to you, young one," Yuon offered him a soft smile, turning away quickly. "This could be beneficial to you... and the council. Master Bakaar?"

 

"Very well." He said, nodding. "As long as we have him fitted with an inhibitor, he may remain free within the Temple. Soqe will supervise his behavior, and when we deem it suitable, he may be reinstated as a Padawan. Knight, you have our perspective."

 

"Thank you, Masters." He bowed respectfully, a small smile trying to force it's way onto his face. "I will have the healers place one onto him tonight."

**Author's Note:**

> hey, hoped you enjoyed it. we'll be updating our other fics soon so stay tuned! :)
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